


Blind Faith

by kakumei



Series: Things I Wouldn't Do (But Did) [2]
Category: Saints Row
Genre: Gen, Religion, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-05 01:20:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3099719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kakumei/pseuds/kakumei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Days after being saved in Shivington, Angelo decides to join the Saints. But Troy doesn’t seem enthused by the idea. Angelo doesn’t know which is more difficult to deal with: Troy’s doubts and discouragement, or his own shaky resolve on the decision he’s made.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blind Faith

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks again to Badger for her beta work!

“ _He that leads into captivity shall go into captivity: he that kills with the sword must be killed with the sword. Here is the patience and the faith of the saints._ \-- Revelations 13:10.”

 

Angelo studied the biblical passage with a raised brow. It was engraved on a stone slab beside the Church entrance, surrounded by graffiti that sprawled across the nave walls and the boarded windows. Perhaps the passage could have been something inspiring long ago, but the ruin surrounding it made it feel like a condemnation. Right across from the church doors was a short marble statue; what could have been the Virgin Mary was reduced to a torso, an arm, and a partial face as blind as the Greek ideal of justice.

 

A few minutes of quiet contemplation passed by until the church’s side door cracked open, a cloud of dust rolling over the chipped stone floors.

 

“You’re early.” The musk of cigarette smoke blew in with the crisp, morning breeze. Troy leaned against the decrepit stone walls and snapped his lighter shut.

 

Angelo didn’t answer. He tucked his hands into the pockets of his baggy jeans and shuffled his torn green sneakers against the red carpet running across the room. The degraded state of his surroundings didn’t ease the anxiety that Troy ignited in him ever since the night in Shivington. On the other hand, the other man seemed all too comfortable; he settled onto one of the dusty oak pews scattered across the church, tapping cigarette ash onto the cracked floorboards as if the building were an oversized ash tray.

 

“You know, I never got your name,”  Troy said, as he slouched against the pew’s sidearm.

 

Giving up his identity seemed like a risk. It’d been a long time since his father had been cast out of Stilwater University, but Angelo was afraid that the newspapers had still familiarized half of Stilwater with the name Pineda. His first name was also pretty generic for a city with a bustling Latino population. “It’s Angelo,” the young man replied, keeping his eyes glued to the slab.

 

“Lopez?” Troy chuckled.

 

He was met with a terse, thin frown. The Carnales weren’t a group that Angelo was happy to be associated with. He’d also heard the same stupid joke too many times at work from his customers.

 

“I thought you didn’t trust us,” continued Troy.

 

“I don’t.”

 

“So you’re just here for your car.”

 

“No.” Angelo lowered his chin and dug his hands deeper into his pockets. “I mean yeah, I’m here for my car. But I’ve thought shit over since I saw you last. I decided it’d be worth checking around, seeing if Julius’ offer was worth it.”

 

“Well that’s reassuring.” Troy settled back into the pew, but not close enough to the wood to get dust on the back of his purple polo shirt. “I hope the place is up to your standards.”

 

Angelo decided to shrug off Troy’s snark; it wasn’t worth starting a fight over shitty first impressions. The only hope of him getting the opportunity to prove himself was by keeping his cool and get some sort of friendly rapport going, although Troy’s attitude was going to make it difficult to accomplish.

 

He cocked his head towards the slab. “That passage is pretty cool. Seems appropriate for you guys.”

 

Troy chuckled back at him, smoke leaving through his lips. “Jules already knew of this place from a long time ago. Must have been something important to him back in the day, which is why I was surprised that it took him days to decide where to settle the gang. He spent a few hours picking a name for the gang, until he realized that was looking him square in the face too.”

 

Angelo squinted his eyes in study, pausing as he recalled what had been on the slab. “The Saints?”

 

“Third Street Saints, to be exact.”

 

“And the purple?”

 

Troy shrugged noncommittally. “Jules just liked the color. Could have went for green, but he heard a gang from another city already claimed it. He didn’t want to step on any toes, or at least not the ones he wasn’t prepared to handle.”

 

“Is he ready for the ones here?” Angelo asked.

 

“Are you?”

 

Angelo dug his nails into his palm, until it seemed like he almost cut through the soft muscle under his skin. He was familiar with the feeling of someone not wanting him around and Troy’s scathing tone made it worse. But remembering  Troy had saved him three nights ago blurred the lines between tolerance and loathing. The memory that Angelo owed Troy a lot made the rejection more painful.

 

There was little time for Angelo to answer Troy right away; engines rumbled outside of the Church, growing louder while tires screeched and then sputtered to a stop. Julius had only mentioned he was holding a meeting at the church, but Angelo hadn’t been thorough enough to ask what sort of meeting it was. A pep rally? Some sort of initiation ritual? Whatever it was, they were doing it right out in the open, and in broad daylight. Did the residents not care, or were they actually enjoying the gang’s protection? Angelo remembered that, after a car accident stopped transit in Prawn Court, that he’d been unmolested while scaling the fifteen blocks from his stalled bus to the church.

 

The thought that the Saints benefitted the Row somehow, and perhaps could do so for Stilwater, seemed promising even with the great risk the decision posed.

 

“I guess you’ll find out soon enough,” Angelo replied, digging his hands out of his pockets only to loop his thumbs beneath his belt. He knitted his eyebrows and drummed his fingers against his belt, waiting for Troy to take the lead, trying to search the room for whatever had prompted his corny ass line while not breaking his cool.

 

Troy, on the other hand, didn’t seem amused or impressed. He folded his arms together, flexing the large cross emblazoned on his forearm. There was something about that man Angelo couldn’t touch, a certain voice of reason hiding behind those stoic amber eyes which frightened and eased him all at once.

 

Voices started to pick up in volume beyond the Church doors. Angelo could hear some back and forth banter -- some of it friendly, others the culmination of catcalls and jeers that sounded like they were whetting blades that had crossed paths not long ago. A crowd was forming in the courtyard and the louder the people became, the more that Angelo was starting to immerse himself in the surreal situation he plunged himself into.

 

The considerations Angelo had made since the day he almost died rushed back into his head. He had to work off his debt to Julius, and he was certain that the gang life wouldn’t suit him in the long run; he’d work just long enough to settle his debt with Julius and Troy, and then perhaps a bit longer to repair his mother’s car and pay off his brother’s tuition fees next fall.

 

His priority was to provide for his family, but he also valued the thought of cleaning up the streets as well. The two goals could easily come hand in hand while he represented the Row. A chill ran across his spine, starting from his lower back and fluttering to a stop behind his ears. It was daunting and exciting all at once. But standing in the church bolstered his resolve. He swore to the graffiti and the spiderwebs tangled between the arches that he’d commit to his decision. No matter how small his contribution was Angelo Pineda would help clean up Stilwater like running a paint roller over the church walls. (He wasn’t sure if there was any hope in restoring the church itself, but if someone made it clean enough to eat food off the floor he’d totally do it.)

 

He steeled himself with a deep breath then moved towards the Church’s side door.

 

“Kid wait,” Troy called out as he stood from his seat, his voice echoing through the nave. “You don’t have to do this.”

 

Angelo spun on his heel and marched towards Troy, stopping only until he could smell the pungent aroma of shaving cream past the hint of tobacco. “The fuck I don’t! What was that shit with my car then?”

 

“It was Julius’ idea,” Troy said without flinching. The man was inches taller than Angelo, but despite his tense and fixed jaw he made no effort to match Angelo’s threat. “That wasn’t part of the plan. I just wanted you off the street, and I still want you off the street.” He motioned towards the main entrance with his cigarette, dropping his voice. “Listen to me. You step outside and you’re gonna see a bunch of kids out there, some of them barely past sixteen. That shit ain’t right.”

 

“Then why are you helping Julius?” Angelo snapped.

 

Troy sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. He seemed tired, almost weary, as if he’d gone through this speech a million times before. “I’m here because Julius asked me to be. He’s a friend, and I owe him a few favors. I promised to watch his back, but if I had things my way I wouldn’t have anyone out here in the first place. Jules thinks he can pick up every diamond in the rough and turn them, turn all this--” the man gestured around him, “--into something special. The truth is it won’t be long until half of these kids are dead.”

 

The warning was clear, and Angelo even anticipated it.  But Troy was assuming Angelo hadn’t considered the repercussions of his decision.

 

“Then someone needs to watch out for them,” said Angelo, stepping back to give Troy some air but not permitting his resolve to falter. “That’s what the Saints are supposed to do, isn’t it? Look out for their own?”

 

“Yeah well...” Troy shook his head and took a long drag. “That someone might just have to beat ‘em bloody first.”

 

A deep voice called Troy’s name as the side door burst open, in a cloud of dust rolling over the floor. Julius walked into the church, in the midst of issuing a command to Troy about organizing the boys outside when he noticed Angelo standing beside his second. He strode over at a fast pace, every bit the proud and imposing figure he had been the night Angelo met him. Then he patted the young man’s shoulder, the wide beam and the twinkle in his eye selling nothing short of his appraisal. “Well look who’s here bright and early. Glad to see you, Playa.”

 

Angelo forced a smile, unsure of how else to respond to the situation. Julius’ welcome was a nice change of pace but didn’t dispel the kernel of doubt Troy’s mysterious words nurtured in his mind. Angelo made note of them even as he walked out into the churchyard with the men he had met a few nights earlier.

 

Most of all, Angelo fought to remember what brought him to the church in the first place.‘ _The Saints take care of their own._ ’ Drilling that reminder into his head, Angelo blended in with the people waiting at the bottom of the church steps.


End file.
